


Pulled out of Buridan's Asshole

by The_BloodyEagle



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: All is good, Buridan's Ass, Established Relationship, I fixed the ending, M/M, Numbers is alive, all is right once more, except for Numbers' beard, sorry Numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_BloodyEagle/pseuds/The_BloodyEagle





	Pulled out of Buridan's Asshole

Numbers’ eyes fluttered open, a faint beeping bringing him back to reality. He smacked his dry lips, running his gummy tongue over them as he tried to remember what happened. He moved to run his hand over his bandaged throat, but stopped when he heard a metal clang. He glanced down, careful not to move his head, taking in the handcuffs chaining him to the hospital bed.

 

He groaned as memories came flooding back to him. A blizzard. Rear-ending Malvo’s car. A firefight. Him and Wrench splitting up. That Malvo fuck sneaking up behind him and slitting his-

 

Numbers gasped and sat up sharply. _Wrench!_ He yanked the i.v cord out of his other arm and threw the sheets off of himself, trying to get out of the bed. His heart monitor began beeping rapidly as nurses and an armed guard rushed into his room as he thrashed around. Then there was a needle being pushed into his arm and his vision swam into darkness once more.

 

He woke up again after an unknown amount of time. There was a new bandage around his neck and a new handcuff, this time for the other arm. He heard a cough and shifted his gaze to the chair sitting next to the bed. Staring at him was the deputy from Lester’s job, who had an i.v in her arm as well.

 

“They told me you were awake again, said you gave them a right scare in the ambulance.” She commented and Numbers painfully cleared his throat.

 

“Where’s-” his voice came out raspy and unknown to him. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat again.

 

“Your partner? He’s in a room down the hall.” Numbers felt the breath he didn’t even know he had been holding.

 

“How,” he cleared his throat, “how is he?” he coughed, throat aching from the effort.

 

“He’s holding up, recovering from the gunshots,” she shrugged and Numbers’ eyes widened. The deputy pursed her lips and looked down at her slipper clad feet. “I shot him.” Numbers glared at her, and turned away pointedly with a huff.

 

“Look, was this the guy that tried to kill you?” He turned back to her, curiosity getting the best of him, and looked at the grainy picture. It was Malvo dragging some fat guy by the tie down a hallway or something.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling anger bubble up inside of him. “I want to speak to my partner,” he rasped, turning his dark gaze back to the deputy. She glanced at her feet bashfully and put the photo in his pocket.

 

“Well, the thing is… I kinda told him you were dead…” she trailed off and Numbers jerked against the handcuffs.

 

“You WHAT!?” He croaked, struggling against the cuffs, kicking the blankets off of himself, heart monitor beeping rapidly.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get him to talk,” she cried as a storm of nurses rushed into his room to pump him full of more sedatives.

 

“You fix this! You fix this!” He called after her as a doctor pushed stuck a needle in the i.v port and pushed some more sedative into his arm.

 

Wrench scrabbled for the keys to the cuff chaining him to the bed. The two keys on the loop jingled as he scooped them up, shoving the first key into the cuff around the bedrail. His brow furrowed with confusion when the key didn’t fit. _How many people was this guy guarding?_ He thought to himself as he slipped the other key into the handcuff, turning it sharply and rubbing his wrist, feeling his circulation restored. _Maybe Numbers-_

 

He cut himself off, suppressing the urge to cry as he shook his head, trying to banish Numbers from his thoughts. It would be easier that way. He stood up, side aching a bit, slipping into the slippers and turning off the heart monitor. He grabbed onto the cool metal bar that the i.v bag was attached to and poked his head out the doorway, looking to see if anyone was coming. Not for the first time he cursed his lack of hearing, not knowing if someone was about to round the corner or not. He started walking, grabbing a familiar fringed coat on the way out of the room.

 

He walked down the hallway, glancing into the rooms that had their doors ajar to make sure no one saw him leaving. He passed one room and he looked into it quickly, his heart stopping as he saw a familiar bearded figure in it.

 

Numbers felt someone shaking him into consciousness. He blearily blinked his eyes open, a silhouette in front of the fluorescent lights holding him by the shoulders. He swiped at the shadow a bit, trying to push it away. He sat up as he realized that his hands were no longer handcuffed to the bed. He rubbed his wrists and looked to identify the shadow.

 

Wrench was standing at the end of his bed, eyes brimming his tears with a wide grin adorning his face.

 

_She told me you were dead._ He sniffled as his hands cut through the air.

 

_I know._ Numbers smiled sadly at him. _I’m sorry._

 

_Don’t be, you’re alive._ Wrench took Numbers’ hands to keep him from arguing and pulled him into a kiss. He let go of his hands to weave them into his hair, Numbers grabbing his shirt front and pulling him in closer, feelings of desperation and pain being erased. When they parted Wrench turned away briefly to swipe at the tears that were brimming at the edge of his eyelids. He looked back and saw Numbers hands, poised, and as soon as he refocused his attention to Numbers, his hands flew quickly through the space between them.

_C’mon, we’ve got to figure out how to get out of here._ Wrench furrowed his brow and nodded, thinking.

 

_A new guard is going to come on duty in about a half-hour, if we’re not out of here by then we’re fucked._ He commented, and Numbers nodded.

 

_I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it,_ Numbers face screwed up as he continued, _and neither will I._

 

Not even 15 minutes later, a tall nurse with a black sweater underneath the thin blue shirt and glasses was pushing a wheelchair with an older looking man, who was fast asleep under a thick wool blanket. The nurse nodded to the security officer at the back exit of the hospital, where nurses took patients to get some fresh air. The officer nodded back with a kind smile as the nurse pushed the older man outside as he stirred a bit in his sleep before settling down.

 

Wrench guided the wheelchair around the corner of the hospital towards the parking lot and snuck a quick look around to make sure no one was looking, then he tapped Numbers on the shoulder.

 

Numbers sat up and handed Wrench his familiar tanned leather jacket, who grinned and quickly slid it on as Numbers stood up, scarf covering the bandage on his neck. He shook his head, sending the powder they had used to whiten his hair to the ground. Like a mini-snowstorm, it came drifting down around him.

 

He flipped Wrench off as his partner let out a breathless laugh. _You look like an old man._

_Thats the whole fucking idea, you dipshit!_

_You look weird without your beard._ Numbers flipped him off with both hands.

 

_Lets just get the fuck out of here. You got the keys?_ Wrench pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket, dangling them in front of his face. Wrench tossed the glasses to the ground and stepped on them with a sharp crunch. His gaze flicked up to meet Numbers and he winked, taking his partners newly shaved face in his open hand and brought him in for a deep kiss, unaccustomed to Numbers being clean shaven. His face felt smooth, soft and unsullied by the elements, he smiled against the kiss.

 

Numbers pulled back and cocked his head. _What?_ Wrench shook his head.

 

_Never mind, lets go._ Numbers shrugged and smiled.

 

_Right. I’ll feel better when theres a few hundred miles between here and us. And when my beard grows back._ He walked around the hood of the car and slid into the passengers seat, waiting expectantly for Wrench. Ready whenever you are. Wrench felt himself blinking back tears for the umpteenth time that day. He slid into the drivers seat, smiling at Numbers.

 

_Lets go._


End file.
